“Here,” said he, with a bitter sneer, “we can find, I think, what we want;” and placing the candle he carried on the mantelpiece, he leaped upon the cushioned seat that ran round the room, and took down from the wall several pairs of duelling swords, and, throwing them upon the floor, exclaimed, “Choose your own weapon.”
George was an anxious as Norbert to bring this painful scene to a close, for anything was preferable to this hideous state of suspense. The last despairing glance of the Duchess had pierced his heart like a dagger thrust, and when he saw Norbert thrust aside his trembling wife with such brutality, it was all he could do to refrain from striking him down. He made no choice of weapons, but grasped the nearest, saying,—
“One will do as well as another.”
“We cannot fight in this darkness,” said Norbert, “but I have a means to remedy that. Come with me this way, so that we may avoid the observation of the porter.”
They went into the stables, where he took up a large lantern, which he lighted.
“This,” said he, “will afford ample light for our work.”
“Ah, but the neighbors will see it, too; and at this hour a light in the garden is sure to attract attention,” observed George.
“Don’t be afraid; my grounds are not overlooked.”
They entered the garden, and soon reached the spot to which the Duke had alluded. Norbert hung the lantern on the bough of a tree, and it gave the same amount of light as an ordinary street lamp.
“We will dig the grave in that corner,” observed he; “and when it is filled in, we can cover it with that heap of stones over there.”